A Disfunctional Family Christmas
by Ivory Tower
Summary: Here's a little Christmas play starring Snape, Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ron as a "normal, loving" family. Chapter 3 is up! Be fearful and rejoice
1. Default Chapter

Title: A Disfunctional Family Christmas  
  
Author: Ivory Tower  
  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters.  
  
A/N: Hello all. This play has 3 acts and, thus, 3 chapters. Don't worry, they're all fairly short. Just a little FYI for ya! And now...  
  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is proud to present:  
  
The Warmth of a Family Holiday  
  
Starring:  
  
Severus Snape: The father  
  
Hermione Granger: The daughter  
  
Draco Malfoy: The son  
  
Harry Potter: The *other* son  
  
Ron Weasley: Cousin Patty  
  
Lucius Malfoy: A friend of the family  
  
Gilderoy Lockhart: Himself...at least, temporarily  
  
Act I: Family Gatherings  
  
Hermione rushes down the very fake and wobbly stairs with a big smile on her face.  
  
"Oh daddy, it's the most wonderful time of the year! Let's decorate the Christmas tree."  
  
Snape looks up from The Daily Prophet.  
  
"Stop bothering me, you insufferable know-it-all." The sound of Dumbledore clearing his throat is heard by all. Snape sighs and looks annoyed. "Very well, daughter. Where is the damn thing?"  
  
Hermione frowns. "You shouldn't use foul language during the holidays, Professor."  
  
"I'll thank you to keep your preaching to yourself, Minerva junior."  
  
Harry and Draco enter the living room carrying boxes brimming with tinsel, lights and ornaments.  
  
"Hooray. It is Christmas...at last,"says Draco, void of all emotion. He looks thoroughly humiliated.  
  
"Sis says she's going to show us how to decorate the tree Muggle style. This is going to be so cool!" Harry realizes what he's just said and looks ill with disbelief at the horrid script.  
  
"Potter, you suck."  
  
"Bite me, Malfoy."  
  
"Silence! Father needs a drink. Accio rum!" Snape unscrews the lid off the summoned rum, takes a long drink, and lights a cigarette.  
  
"Father, are you going to wash your hair for Christmas this year?"  
  
"Potter! Twenty points from-"  
  
Again, Dumbledore clears his throat. Hermione, Harry, and even Malfoy shake with silent laughter.  
  
The doorbell rings. Everyone just stands there. The doorbell rings again. Snape exhales smoke through his nose.  
  
"Oh well, why don't *I* answer it. I have nothing *better* to do. Lazy, abhorrent children..." Snape grumbles his way to the door.   
  
Ron Weasley is standing there holding a wreath.  
  
"Prof-uncle Snape!" croaks Ron, looking and sounding as though he's walked in on someone in the bathroom.  
  
Snape frowns at him.  
  
"Whatever you are selling, we do not want any."  
  
"Cousin Patty," exclaims Hermione, rushing to the door.  
  
Harry and Draco exchange looks and are overcome with laughter. Ron glares at them as he walks in.  
  
"I can't help it that they gave me a stupid name in the play. Stop laughing!"  
  
Draco swaggers up to Ron. "Welcome, cousin Patty," he greets in a solemn voice, extending his hand as though to shake. Then, he, Harry and Hermione go off on another tirade of laughter. Even Snape looks amused as he downs more rum.  
  
"Ron, your line!" whispers Hermione, taking the wreath from him.  
  
"Huh? Oh-right. Ahem- whoa! Are you getting ready to erect the symbol of yuletide merriment?"  
  
Snape spits rum at a record distance. Hermione's eyes bulge. Draco begins to hyperventilate with laughter.  
  
"What did you say, R-cousin Patty? I'm not sure I heard that right," says a befuddled Harry.  
  
"I'm just repeating what's in the script! Didn't any of you read the script?"  
  
"Only our own lines, and we even suck at remembering those," replies Draco, lounging on the 1970ish couch.  
  
"Settle down," orders Snape. "Very well, children, let us proceed to *erect* the holiday tree. Potter, Weasley-hop to it!"  
  
"Daddy, I think you should extinguish your cigarette before we proceed."  
  
"Daughter, I advise you to stop spouting bits of common sense at me before you lose the ability to speak...forever."  
  
"Ha ha! Father yelled at you."  
  
"Stuff it, Malfoy. Alright, first we are going to test the lights and see if they work." Hermione unraveles the lights and plugs them in.  
  
"Wicked!" exclaims Ron  
  
Draco is unimpressed. "Is that all they do?"  
  
"They just need a minute to warm up. Then, they'll blink."  
  
"Fascinating," snarls Snape, lighting another cigarette.  
  
"Boy, oh, boy! Let's all put the tree together."  
  
"Sounds like you lost your enthusiasm there, Potter." Harry just shakes his head and looks pained. Draco pulls the different tree parts out of the box and looks confused. "This is stupid."  
  
"Be quiet, Malf-brother. It's really quite simple to do. The parts are color coded," explains Hermione.  
  
The five proceed to assemble the tree. Ron is having much fun spinning the bottom half around and around on the pedestal. Harry repeatedly trips over the stand. Hermione drives Draco batty with her bossy instructions. Snape nearly sets the tree aflame with his cigarette.  
  
"There," says Ron as they stand back and admire their work.  
  
"This would have gone much smoother with magic," comments Draco.  
  
"It looks like a plastic monstrosity that is the direct result of a nuclear catastrophe," mutters Snape, drinking more rum.  
  
"Hey, look! The tree's taller than Harry-I mean, cousin Harold."  
  
Harry glares at Ron. Draco smirks.  
  
"Good one, cousin Patty."  
  
Hermione beams. "Now, let's decorate! First, we'll do the lights. Daddy, you're the tallest so you can start us off at the top."  
  
"I am overwhelmed with jubilation," replies Snape dryly.  
  
"I know. We can all sing Christmas carols," suggests Ron, looking far from excited at the prospect.  
  
"Let's not," says Draco from the couch. Again, Dumbledore clears his throat. Draco rolls his eyes. "That sounds fantastic, cousin Patty. Why don't you start us off?"  
  
Ron resembles someone who has accidently swallowed his gum.  
  
"Me?"  
  
"These blasted lights are already tangled," growls Snape, cigarette clenched between his teeth.  
  
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Fine. I will sing 'Frosty the Snowman'."  
  
"Please don't."  
  
"Shut up, Harry! Fro-sty the snow-man was-" Hermione looks blank. "Um, would any of you like to help me out here?"  
  
"No," responds Draco, holding up the tree topper. "Is this supposed to be a fairy?"  
  
"No, you moron. It's a Christmas angel," says Harry, rummaging through the boxes of ornaments.  
  
"Kinda looks like Lockhart."  
  
"It does not, Ron!" yells Hermione as the others chuckle.  
  
"I am finished with these ridiculous muggle lights," announces Snape, having another drink.  
  
"Wait, father. Put Lockhart on top of the tree."  
  
Ron and Draco snicker again. Snape's face sours.  
  
"Potter, never call me father again. I am quickly growing tired of this tree nonsense. Furthermore-"   
And again, Dumbledore clears his throat. Thoroughly irritated, Snape grabs the angel from Harry and rams it atop the tree. Taking a quick drag off his cigarette, he critically studies the tree topper. "Merlin save us all. We have that idiotic Lockhart as the crowning feature of this plastic monstrosity."  
  
"It does *not* look like Lockhart," insists an infuriated Hermione, clenching her fists.  
  
"It does so, Granger. Look, it even has the curly blond hair and the cape. I'll bet the similarities are no accident," scoffs Draco.  
  
Harry looks devastated. "Lockhart has gone and tainted the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas really has become a twisted game of advertisements and profit."  
  
"And greed," adds Ron.  
  
"That's the buisiness world, cousin Patty. Winner take all. Look, candy canes." Draco unwraps one and pops it in his mouth.  
  
Hermione looks furious.  
  
"Daddy! They're ruining the Christmas mood and eating the ornaments. Make them stop!"  
  
Snape shakes the bottle of rum to test how much is left.  
  
"Miss Granger, of all people *you* should be the one criticizing the commercial world of Christmas. Then again...perhaps you are merely upset over our merry mockery of the Lockhart tree topper. Look at me that way again and I shall freeze your face like that...for a month, Miss Granger."  
  
End Act I.  
  
Tune in tomorrow for Act II of our delightfully disfunctional play! 


	2. Dinner

Title: A Disfunctional Family Christmas  
  
Author: Ivory Tower  
  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters, not me.  
  
Act II: Dinner  
  
Harry, Ron, Draco and Hermione are in what appears to be a kitchen. Off-key Christmas carols are humming softly in the background. Hermione turns around and is holding a basket of rolls. Her smile is wide but obviously strained. Actually, she looks ready to hit someone, so the overall effect results in a deranged looking Hermione.  
  
"I am so happy we are having a guest for our pre-holiday dinner," she exclaims in a somewhat forced voice. "Harry, how's the pie coming along?"  
  
"Well..." Harry looks up from pouring the batter into the pie shell. "It shouldn't make that much of a difference that I forgot to bake the pie shell first...right?"  
  
Draco throws a celery stalk at him. "Nice going, Potter. My arms are tired."  
  
Ron looks incredulous. "That's only the second piece you've sliced!"  
  
"Shut it, cousin Patty," warns Draco, brandishing the celery stalk as a weapon.  
  
"Daddy, Malfoy's throwing food!" shouts Hermione, placing the rolls on the table that is too low.  
  
Snape stalks into the kitchen, sways, and grabs a chair for support. He now has a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey.  
  
"Potter, why did you allow your brother to throw that? No dessert for you."  
  
Harry slams down the whipped cream. "Wait just a darn-"  
  
The doorbell rings.  
  
"Cousin Patt-nephew-Weasl-YOU!" Snape thrusts a long, thin finger at Ron. "Answer the door."  
  
As Ron scurries off, Hermione wipes her hands on her jeans and asks, "Daddy, shouldn't you check the turkey?"  
  
"If it will shut that mouth of yours until next Christmas, I will gladly do so," growls Snape.  
  
"Professor...are you drunk?" inquires Harry point-blank.  
  
Snape ignores the last question, lights a cigarette, opens the oven, and pokes the turkey with a fork. Draco peers from behind Snape's back.  
  
"It looks done."  
  
"Thank you for that brilliant observation, Draco. Hand me the whiskey."  
  
Once received, Snape proceeds to pour whiskey over the turkey. Draco jumps away as the turkey sizzles and pops.  
  
Harry blinks. "Uh, professor-"  
  
"I don't want to hear it, Potter. Take the turkey out and try not to do anything stupid like dropping it. Where in hell is your cousin Patty?"  
  
"Maybe he was kidnapped, but then, who'd want a Weasley?"  
  
"You're going down for that one, Malfoy!"  
  
"Bring it on, Potter!"  
  
Ron runs in and slides across the floor into Harry, who drops the steaming turkey right on Snape's foot. Snape screams. Snape then weaves such a tapestry of obscenities involving turkeys and the entire Potter clan that even Hagrid, seated in the audience and who has sworn aplenty in his lifetime, turns bright red and sinks low in his chair. For a reason that is never explained, Dumbledore is mysteriously absent during this part.  
  
In the midst of all the swearing, none other than the illustrious Lucius Malfoy walks in and pushes Hermione aside with his splendid cane. He then joins the others, who are crowded around the fallen turkey. Every so often a faint groan is heard coming from Snape's direction.  
  
"Well. Well. This must be the muggle way of eating roast turkey. I fear I will have to decline," states Lucius airily, removing his gloves.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione glare at him. Draco smirks.   
  
"Potter dropped it. Old scarhead here can't even handle a cooked bird."  
  
"You couldn't even chop a piece of celery, Malfoy!" retorts Hermione.  
  
"Ack! The pumpkin pie!" Harry rushes to take the pie out, and transfers it to a plate without incident.  
  
Lucius prods the turkey with his cane. "It's a rather small turkey, is it not? Ah, Severus, how are you?"  
  
Snape looks psychotic. Lucius raises his sexy blond eyebrows and seats himself at the table that is too low. He frowns down at the basket of rolls.  
  
"Let's see, we're having celery and pumpkin pie and ginger ale-oh, and the rolls. Father, are you all right?" asks Hermione.  
  
"Whiskey," croaks Snape harshly. Ron obliges him with the bottle. Snape limps over to the table and sits with a pained expression while taking a liberal drink of whiskey. The others seat themselves.  
  
Lucius picks up a piece of celery and studies it as though he's never seen one before. "Is there nothing to top this with?"  
  
"I think there's some celery in the fridge," offers Ron.  
  
Lucius gives Ron an odd look.  
  
"I know! Let's all sing Christmas songs while I serve the pie," exclaims Hermione. "Where was I? Oh yes, Fro-sty the snow-man was a...I think I forgot how it goes," admits Hermione sheepishly.  
  
Draco rolls his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me, Granger. Everyone knows that song. It goes-well-Frosty was a jolly, happy soul and...something."  
  
Harry blinks. "Wasn't there a corn cob somewhere in the song?"  
  
"Yeah. Frosty had a corn cob something," adds Ron helpfully.  
  
"A corn cob up his ass!" snarls Snape, lighting a cigarette.  
  
Lucius chokes on his celery. Hermione gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. Harry, Ron, and Draco are torn between shock and amusement.  
  
"This pie tastes funny," remarks Ron.  
  
Harry looks guilty. "I kinda forgot to pre-bake the pie shell. What? I didn't think it would make that much of a difference. I'm just a kid!"  
  
"How many Gryffindors does it take to foul up dinner?" asks Malfoy in the manner of telling a joke. Lucius and Snape smirk with approval.  
  
"I wouldn't be talking, Malfoy. You let the celery get the best of you," says Harry with a scowl.  
  
"Yes, and it is still the best thing to eat at this deplorable excuse of a dinner. My ex-house elf ate better fare than this," Lucius informs them.  
  
Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Why are you here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be in Azkaban?"  
  
"I am partaking of an experimental community service project issued by the Ministry," explains Lucius, picking up a roll and inspecting it carefully. "However, I seem to have made a grave mistake as memory of this horrid event will undoubtedly haunt me forevermore upon my return. Really, there is not way this can possibly get any worse."  
  
Again, the doorbell rings. The door swings open to reveal none other than Witch Weekly's previous nine time winner of the Most Charming Smile Award, Gilderoy Lockhart.  
  
"Hello! Hello! Can everybody see me? I have an extraordinary announcement to make. In light of the Christmas holiday, I seem to have regained my memory. But wait-there's more!"  
  
Lucius looks at the others. "Is this supposed to happen?"  
  
Ron shrugs with an unhappy expression.  
  
Snape lowers his greasy head into his hands. "Christmas has officially made it to the number two spot on my loathing list, beneath Potter!"  
  
Lockhart grins and rushes over to the table. "I have presents for all: my newest book, entitled: 'Me, Myself, and I. Getting to Know Myself...Again'. Already climbing the charts and is sure to be a best seller by New Years Day! There are copies for everyone, already autographed in my very own designer ink!"  
  
Hermione resembles a dental patient feeling the effects of a generous amount of happy gas as she receives her copy. The others don't even bother to hide their distaste.  
  
"Well now," says Lockhart, grinning, pulling out a chair, and sitting beside and especially annoyed Harry. "how about-"  
  
Snape suddenly screams like a man caught in a bear trap. He then clutches his foot and eyes Lockhart with murderous intent. Lockhart jumps to his feet.  
  
"Do not be alarmed! This oftentimes happens to my fans-a sort of belated response to being in my presence," booms Lockhart.  
  
"I think you touched his hurt foot," says an uneasy Ron.  
  
"Yes. Potty dropped our dinner on it," grumbles Draco, slouching in his chair.  
  
"Never fear! I shall heal that foot for you, my good man!" Lockhart produces his wand.  
  
Snape is in too much pain to make threats so, he picks up what is left of the pumpkin pie and flings it at Lockhart. Everyone at the table applauds loudly, except for Hermione, who is busy gathering napkins to be of assistance.  
  
Once Lockhart has pie cleared out of his eyes, he gives Hermione a funny look.   
  
"Is it medication time already? They must have redecorated the dining room while I was asleep." Lockhart continues to ramble on aimlessly about medicine and, for whatever reason, lobster claws.  
  
Hermione whirls around and glares at Snape.  
  
"Look what you did! He's lost his memory and thinks he's at St. Mungos!"  
  
"It's a Christmas miracle!" cries Harry.  
  
"Hear! Hear!" shout the others, banging their fists on the table as "Hallelujia" blasts throughout the place.  
  
End Act II  
  
A/N: And for tomorrow, folks, the grand finale of this warped Christmas experience! 


	3. The Gift of Giving

Title: A Disfunctional Family Christmas  
  
Author: Ivory Tower  
  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns them. Okay, early this morning I had this damn weird dream that involved Snape riding a horse and then something to do with him swimming around a lot. Point being, the only damn thing I own is that dream, which isn't saying much.  
  
Act III: The Gift of Giving.  
  
It is plainly supposed to be Christmas morning, as indicated by the swinging sun overhead. Malfoy, Hermione, Ron and Harry descend the makeshift stairs that roll from side to side.  
  
"We live in a real hell hole," remarks Malfoy, clutching the bannisters tightly. "I've adapted," he quickly adds, noticing Dumbledore's expression.  
  
When they reach the bottom (Ron trips and tumbles down, taking Harry with him) they pretend to be overwhelmed with surprise.  
  
"Oh look! Santa has come," shouts Hermione, clapping her hands.  
  
"Yeah, so why didn't he take Lockhart with him?"  
  
"Shut up, Ron." Hermione glares at Ron while Draco and Harry snicker behind their hands.  
  
They proceed to ignore Lockhart's presence, which isn't too hard seeing as how he's still seated at the table in the background.  
  
"Wait. We cannot start without fa-that greasy git who takes care of us. But Headmaster, it's the truth." insists Harry.  
  
Lucius enters, helping a soddenly drunk Snape to the nearest chair.  
  
Hermione shakes her head and says, "This is just wrong."  
  
"I expect a full pardon after this is over," declares Lucius, shoving Snape onto what was once a recliner, but now the bottom half is missing.  
  
"Pass out the presents, sis." orders Draco, sprawling onto the couch.  
  
"I refuse to do everything. Do it yourself, Malfoy."  
  
"Be silent and open your presents, you loathesome little brats," slurs Snape. "Where are my cigarettes?"  
  
Ron looks astonished. "Mr. Malfoy-there's a gift for you under here."  
  
"Well, if it is arsenic, I will gladly accept it."  
  
Hermione seizes the present and throws it at Lucius.   
  
"Take it anyway!" she yells.  
  
Lucius is so shocked he just sits there and lets the present bounce off his head without comment.  
  
"Here you go, Professor," says Ron, holding up Snape's present.  
  
"Weasley, I am unable to walk. Bring my stupid present here...and unwrap it while you're at it."  
  
"I'm not Weasley. I'm cousin Patty."  
  
Harry looks worried. "Are you feeling okay, Ron?"  
  
"Damn it! I'm cousin Patty!"  
  
Hermione's mouth thins. She stalks over to Snape and slams the present onto his lap.  
  
"Open it!" she orders harshly.  
  
"Miss Granger-"  
  
"Uh, Professor, I'd do what she says," advises Harry.  
  
"Very well! Snape tears open the package to reveal..."A showercurtain! Which one of you cheap little bastards bought me this-this-!" Snape is so disgusted he spits.  
  
Harry laughs. "You got a dancing Elmo shower curtain, Professor. That's classic!"  
  
"Potter...if you did this..." Snape looks livid.  
  
Hermione whirls around to face Lucius.   
  
"Open your present, Mr. Malfoy," she orders threateningly.  
  
"I have died and gone to Hell. There is no other explanation for this," comments Lucius, unwillingly opening the red package. He frowns. "Paisley oven mitts? I've never baked a day in my life. I don't think Azkaban even has a kitchen. This is the worst present I've ever-"  
  
"Your turn, cousin Patty," interrupts Hermione.  
  
Ron shrugs and unwraps..."Hey, wicked! Wait...that's a toilet paper dispenser."  
  
"I think you opened Potty's present by mistake."  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy!" hiss Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Shove this up your bum," adds Ron, tossing a rolled up paper bag at Draco.  
  
Draco unrolls the bag, reaches in, and produces..."A vial of dried up ink. Go me."  
  
Hermione starts to twitch. "I think I'll open my present now."  
  
"You do that," murmurs Harry.  
  
"Silence, Potter! You are in very deep trouble."  
  
"But, Professor, I didn't get you that stupid shower curtain. Why would I buy you a present?"  
  
"Leave me alone, Potter. The room is spinning."  
  
"Lovely. A trowel." Hermione tosses her new trowel aside and rubs her temples. "That leaves you, Harry."  
  
"Do hurry up, Potter. I wish to return to Azkaban immediately. Severus, would you be so kind as to Obliviate me before my departure? Severus? I don't envy the headache you'll have tomorrow morning." Lucius idlely taps his cane onto the floor.  
  
Harry reaches into the cheaply stamped box that serves as a Christmas package.  
  
"Hey, a spork! Well, at least it's-"  
  
"A spork!" exclaims everyone, including Snape.  
  
Draco nimbly leaps to his feet. "Give me that spork, Potter!"  
  
"Get your own!"  
  
"It's mine!" shrieks Hermione and dives for it.  
  
Ron tackles Hermione and crawls over her to reach Harry and his precious spork.  
  
"Out of my way!" Lucius uses his cane to push the two aside. He repeatedly advances on Harry when Draco seizes Lucius's feet and hangs on. "Let go at once, Draco! I mean it!"  
  
Snape staggers in Harry's general direction and promptly falls off the stage.  
  
"Merlin's beard! Are you all right, Severus?" inquires McGonagall from the audience.  
  
While everyone is having a knockout dragout, Harry sneaks offstage with his spork.  
  
Snape somehow manages to climb back on stage *without* the aid of magic.  
  
"Weasley touched my hair! I'm infected!"  
  
"Hair? That's a bloody helmet you've got for hair, Malfoy. Take that!"  
  
"Weasley's beating me with a stalk of celery! Help!"  
  
"Help yourself, Draco. Get this insane girl away from me!" Lucius kicks at Hermione.  
  
"...and this is for supressing Dobby for all those years-and your blatant misuse of authority at the Ministry of Magic..." Hermione continues to rant and pummel Lucius in the face with his newly acquired paisley oven mitts.  
  
Harry walks back out, still clutching his spork.  
  
"Guys? I think the play is over. Is Lockhart going to sit at the table all night or what?" Harry asks, shrugs, and faces the audience. "Well...we hope you've enjoyed-"  
  
Snape passes out drunk and topples over with the Christmas tree. Can't you just taste the symbolism?  
  
"-our play," continues Harry, "Thank you all for-"  
  
"Ouch! My hair!"  
  
"Granger, stop squalling about your bushy hair."  
  
"That wasn't me, Malfoy! That was your father!"  
  
"Couldn't have been, Granger. Snape's out cold."  
  
"Your *other* father, ferret face!"  
  
"It's a lie, Draco! Do not believe a word this girl says."  
  
"Taste the toilet roll of death and destruction, Malfoy!"  
  
"Weasley, get that thing away-help! Murder!" shrieks Draco.  
  
"-coming. Yeah. I hope your Christmas doesn't end up like this, but if it does, there are always plenty of anti-depressants and tranquilizers. Good night." concludes Harry.   
  
An out-of-tune rendition of The Most Wonderful Time of the Year fills the Great Hall.  
  
~FIN~  
  
A/N: Merry Christmas and don't get too drunk. 


End file.
